


In Good Days and Bad

by neveralarch



Category: Johannes Cabal - Jonathan L. Howard
Genre: F/M, Gen, Mawwiage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 20:44:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9020281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neveralarch/pseuds/neveralarch
Summary: Johannes Cabal and Zarenyia get married. For immigration purposes.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Llwyden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llwyden/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide Llwyden! This is a treat that got really really out of hand on Friday. Thank you for introducing me to this short story and also for giving me the opportunity to write this only-sort-of-crack.
> 
> Zarenyia is from the short story [A Long Spoon](http://www.tor.com/2014/12/18/a-long-spoon-peter-joseph/) if any readers also missed this when reading the Cabal novels. Go on, go read it, I'll wait.

Horst woke up one evening to find that he couldn't open his box.

Once he would have panicked. Fortunately he hadn't eaten recently, so it was a little difficult to find the adrenaline necessary to panic. He continued pushing at the lid instead, methodically looking for a weak point.

There was something heavy sitting above him; Horst could shift it minutely around the edges, but it would burn a lot of energy to throw it off altogether. Horst settled for banging instead.

There was a skittering noise, and the weight lifted. A milk-white hand lifted the lid, and a pair of glowing red eyes peered in.

"Hello!" said a rather beautiful woman. "How long have you been in there?"

"About ten hours." Horst pushed himself to his feet, taking the lid in his hands and propping it against the box. The woman had short red hair, a rather fetching sweater, and the lower half of a spider. Horst allowed himself five seconds to take this in, and then politely dragged his eyes back up to her face. "How long have _you_ been here?"

"Almost all day, I'm afraid," said the woman. "Your bed was so comfortable to lie on top of, and Johannes didn't mention that he had a guest."

"Permit me to introduce myself." Horst extended a hand, and the woman giggled and allowed her own hand to be taken and kissed. "Horst Cabal. Johannes, for his sins, is my brother."

"Oh!" The woman gripped Horst's hand with unfeigned pleasure. "How nice! I'm Zarenyia. Johannes is my fiancé."

\---

"Please stop shouting." Johannes set his pen down and glared across his desk at his brother and supposed fiancé.

"I'm not shouting," said Horst, at a volume which admittedly was very loud. "I just want to know what the bloody hell is going on!"

"It's not a _real_ marriage," said Johannes.

"It is," said Zarenyia. "You said! No take-backsies."

"It's a legal marriage," amended Johannes. "For immigration purposes."

"Emigrating from where?" demanded Horst, who was finding that all of the adrenaline seemed to be coming out to play at last.

"Oh, hell," said Zarenyia.

"I'm sorry that I swore in front of you," said Horst. "It wasn't polite, I'll admit. But I would like an answer to my question."

"I'm not swearing!" Zarenyia's eyes widened. "I never swear, it's not ladylike."

"She's emigrating from hell," clarified Johannes. "And the paperwork is _very_ complicated, so I'd appreciate it if you-"

"And you've decided this today?" asked Horst. "That's a bit sudden, isn't it?"

"We've met before," said Johannes. "Zarenyia is very helpful—"

"Go-getting," suggested Zarenyia.

"—resourceful—"

"—thoughtful—"

"—and violent."

"Exactly what you look for in a wife, I see," said Horst.

"And Johannes is so amusing," said Zarenyia. "When he asked me this morning, I could only say yes!"

"What about," Horst hesitated.

"Of course there won't be any children." Zarenyia's face fell a little. "Not biologically compatible, I'm afraid."

"Also, intercourse with you is inevitably fatal," pointed out Johannes. "I've observed the process several times."

Horst had been about to interject, but the idea of Johannes _observing intercourse_ burned across his brain and rendered him quite incapable of speech. As far as Horst was aware, Johannes had maintained polite—not even to say intimate—contact with no more than perhaps six women over his adult lifetime. Faced with this claim of carnal participation, Horst was feeling a simultaneously overwhelming and unattainable desire to dunk his brain in dish soap.

"We could adopt," said Zarenyia.

"This sounds less and less like a purely legal relationship," managed Horst at last.

"I don't actually like children," said Johannes.

"Well, it's better to have these conversations early," mused Zarenyia. "How do you feel about dogs?"

Horst grasped his brother by the shoulders, lifted him out of his chair and carried him away into a corner where they might speak privately. Johannes yelped and kicked, but Horst was determined to have this out and anyway Johannes was wearing slippers and wasn't very good at kicking.

"Have you really thought this through?" whispered Horst, when he was sure that Zarenyia couldn't overhear them.

"Put me down," said Johannes. Horst relinquished his grip a little reluctantly, and Johannes glared as he tucked his shirt back into place.

"I mean," said Horst. "What about, you know. Her?"

"She would understand," said Johannes, and then caught himself. "She will understand. I've had to make many sacrifices to keep myself alive and the work progressing. This is a smaller sacrifice than most."

"Is it?" Horst pressed. "You're signing your name to a demon from hell, Johannes, a—"

"A devil," corrected Zarenyia, who could be very quiet when she wanted to be. "Don't worry, I know you're just ignorant, you don't _mean_ to be offensive. Johannes, what about a German shepherd? Regionally appropriate, good guard dog—"

"I already have more hangers-on than I know what to do with," said Johannes. "I don't need a dog too."

"I don't have any hangers-on." Zarenyia pouted.

"If you want a dog you'll have to feed it," cautioned Johannes. "And walk it, clean up after it, and ensure that it doesn't take any of my specimens—"

"Done," chirped Zarenyia. "I'm getting a dachshund."

"No," said Johannes.

"I'm a free woman, and I can get an adorable furry wiener if I want one."

This time both Horst and Johannes lapsed into frozen silence for a solid minute, while Zarenyia glanced between them with an uncomfortably knowing grin.

"Maybe," croaked Horst, "a long engagement would allow you to hash out these issues."

"I'm afraid we need to finalize this before the next sunrise," said Johannes. "Otherwise we'll be giving Satan time to thwart our intentions."

"Isn't there even enough time to inform mother?"

"As far as mother knows, we're both dead," said Johannes. "And I intend to keep it that way, if only to prevent her from sending any more scarves at Christmas."

"I like scarves," said Zarenyia.

"Not these," said Johannes, darkly.

"Then I'm afraid," said Horst with heavy finality, "that I will have to withhold my blessing." 

Johannes, as expected, reacted with supreme unconcern. Zarenyia, unexpectedly and rather gratifyingly, blanched.

"Oh no," she said. "Isn't there anything we can do to convince you?"

"No," said Horst. "It just seems like you're rushing in."

"Can we kill him?" murmured Zarenyia to Johannes, not quietly enough.

"I'd prefer not to," hissed Johannes. "He comes back, anyway."

"Well." Zarenyia reached out and picked Horst up by the shoulders, and carried him over to a corner where they might speak privately. Horst yelped and kicked, but although he was wearing proper shoes, his kicks were as ineffective as Johannes' had been.

"I just want a word, darling, one psytophage to another."

"Hematophage, surely," said Johannes, who had simply followed them.

"One psytophage to another," said Zarenyia firmly. "I won't say I love your brother, but I do like him, and I also like not being in hell. And even Satan won't disrespect the holy bond of matrimony."

"Really?" asked Horst.

"Not really," said Johannes. "But it does give us some leeway."

"And I think within a year Johannes and I will be able to hold dominion over a good chunk of the continent," said Zarenyia.

"That's not really the plan," said Johannes.

"I'm just _suggesting_."

"I'm not feeling very convinced," said Horst.

"We don't really need his permission," said Johannes. "If you'd just let me get back to the paperwork—"

"The union is much stronger with your blessing than without," said Zarenyia. "And think how happy we could be together. You and I could hunt in the evenings, while Johannes works and plays with my adorable Mr. Wiggly—"

"Who on earth is Mr. Wiggly?" asked Johannes.

"The dachshund," said Zarenyia. "And in the mornings you could rest easy, knowing that your brother is carefully protected by someone who has at least some of his best interests at heart."

"We are not naming the dog Mr. Wiggly," muttered Johannes.

Horst looked deep into Zarenyia's eyes, and could see nothing there except bone-deep sincerity. Well, and murderous intent, but it didn't seem directed at anyone in particular.

"What do you say?" asked Zarenyia.

"Put me down, first of all," said Horst. When he had regained his feet, he extended his hands. Zarenyia gave him her hand easily, and Horst managed to grab Johannes' hand before he could snatch it away.

"I give you my blessing," Horst said as Johannes tried ineffectually to squirm out of his grip. "On the condition that I can conduct the ceremony."

"That would be lovely!" squealed Zarenyia.

"Please don't do this to me," said Johannes.

"Are Dennis and Denzel still in the shed?"

"Please," said Johannes. Zarenyia and Horst ignored him.

\---

The ceremony was, to use a completely inadequate word, lovely.

Dennis and Denzel strew flowers before Zarenyia as she walked down the path, clad in a tunic and veil that Horst had made from a set of lace curtains. A chorus of fairies sang a rather filthy song, fortunately in a language that only they knew. And the crow was the ring bearer, landing on Johannes' shoulder as he stood by his brother and regretted every choice he had made in life, particularly the one where he'd chosen to be born with an older brother.

"We've already signed the paperwork," said Johannes. "This is entirely unnecessary."

"Hush." Horst jabbed his brother in the side with his elbow, almost cracking one of Johannes' ribs. "Doesn't she look beautiful?"

Zarenyia, to be exact, looked like a vision. The kind of vision that you had at four in the morning after consuming an inadvisable amount of hallucinogens, and which made you question where your libido came up with this kind of nonsense.

Johannes pushed his glasses up his nose and tried to feign indifference. But Horst smirked at him, and Johannes felt like his infatuation must be plain as the nose on his face.

He really did like Zarenyia. She was clever, engaging, and she could murder a man in about three minutes without getting any blood on the carpet. Whenever Johannes looked at her, he wanted to _do_ things. Talk to her, for instance, or sit companionably in silence while watching the fairies try to lure a vagrant into the garden. Even—and here Johannes shuddered, because he knew this was far too much intimacy to presume on such short acquaintance—even ask her to be his partner at bridge. He imagined that she'd be very good at it, if they could find a fourth to partner Horst.

"Totally gone on her, aren't you," whispered Horst.

Johannes made no reply.

When Zarenyia reached them, Horst took their hands again. Johannes forced himself not to jerk away, instead gazing up into Zarenyia's beaming face.

"Johannes and Zareniya, you come here voluntarily with hearts prepared, to receive each other in marriage?" said Horst. He wasn't reading from a script. Johannes wondered how long he'd had this absurd litany memorized.

"Yes," said Zareniya.

"Yes," agreed Johannes.

"Will you love each other, respect, and be loyal to one another until death separates you?"

"I'm immortal," said Zarenyia. "I feel like this doesn't apply."

"I don't want to concede the possibility of failure," agreed Johannes. "Also, I do think we may divorce if the arrangement becomes inconvenient."

Horst lost a little of his irritating beatitude. "Well, that's what's next."

"Isn't the verse after that about raising your children in Christ?" asked Johannes.

"Raising our dog in Satan," suggested Zarenyia.

"I'll skip to the end," said Horst, with some irritation. Johannes felt his heart warm with satisfaction. "You're married, all right? You can kiss if you like."

Johannes hesitated and looked at Zarenyia, who didn't look particularly enthusiastic either. He reclaimed his hand from Horst instead, and offered it to Zarenyia. She took it, and they shook.

"No take-backsies," said Zarenyia.

"No," agreed Johannes. "No take-backsies."

Dennis and Denzel cheered, making the two Cabal brothers wince.

"Ah!" Zarenyia released Johannes' hand and pushed back her veil to grin. "Listen to them, the children of the night. What music they make!"

\---

"Hello Mr. Wiggles!" crooned Zarenyia. "Hello! Hello!"

Mr. Wiggles yapped ecstatically. Johannes groaned.

"Zarenyia, I really am trying to work."

"I'm not stopping you," said Zarenyia. "Although, if you have a moment, I do have a question."

Johannes glared at the wall for a solid thirty seconds, while Zarenyia waited with poorly-concealed excitement to see what he'd do. It was so funny, watching Johannes try to be patient with her. He seemed to think it was his responsibility, which was very sweet. Zarenyia couldn't help pushing at him to see when he'd break.

"Yes?" Johannes said at last.

Zarenyia sighed. She'd been hoping for 'yes, darling?' but she could see that the endearments weren't sticking yet. She'd have to keep trying.

"We never discussed who was taking whose name," she said. "Or what Mr. Wiggles' surname would be!"

"I imagined it was 'Wiggles,'" said Johannes, with some distaste.

"Don't be ridiculous," said Zarenyia. "Anyway, I've been thinking about Zarenyia Cabal, and it doesn't really flow off the tongue. I think you should take my name."

This produced another long period of silent glaring, although this glaring was significantly more bewildered than the first. Zarenyia thought, not for the first time, that Johannes hadn't anticipated that marriage might come with _consequences_ , even one so banal as a change in names. He'd even thought he could veto the dog. It was adorable.

"What is your surname?" asked Johannes.

Zarenyia told him, and Johannes frowned. "I don't think I can pronounce that."

"I've been called Zarenyia Death-Spider before," Zarenyia said. "Isn't that nice? We could do it in German, even. Zarenyia and Johannes Todspinne."

"People will think I'm a dizzy amphibian," said Johannes.

"Well, _people_ ," said Zarenyia.

"And everyone already knows me as Cabal the Necromancer," said Johannes. "I have a little infamy."

"We all must make sacrifices," said Zarenyia.

"And," said Johannes, but he didn't seem to be able to come up with any other objections.

"I suppose your mother would hate it, if she knew," said Zarenyia a little regretfully. "And I really don't know what Horst will think."

Johannes' eyes gleamed. "I'll have my luggage re-monogrammed at once."

"Mr. Wiggles Todspinner," purred Zarenyia, tossing her happy puppy lightly into the air. "Hello! Hello!"

She settled herself against her cushions and reveled in it. Her new home might not be as warm as hell, nor as cacophonous. But it was certainly more interesting.

"Do you know how to play bridge?" asked Johannes, after about an hour of companionable silence.

"No," said Zarenyia. "But I'd be happy to learn!"


End file.
